“Poetry happens when the heart inspires and the head instructs”  – Susan A. Katz


My dog kills rabbits; little

ones still nesting in warm

fur and brown grass; he stumbles

on them in the woods

behind our house and carries

them screaming like terrified

children onto the lawn; we try

to take them from him, but he turns

on us, his eyes growling possession,

his tongue heavy with fur

and blood, his thick liver-ticked

body trembling with the pleasure

of the kill.

For days afterward, I cannot

touch him, his eyes

follow me around the house, despairing,

he is only a dog, I tell myself,

knowing, it is not him I fear, but something

in him, that I see, primitive

and unthinkable that reminds me

of me.

Susan A. Katz

Leave a Reply